


The Falcon and the Dawn

by emancipator2992



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Battle, F/F, Like low-ish fantasy?, Typical Fantasy Violence, and tightly controlled, there's magic but it's not super common
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emancipator2992/pseuds/emancipator2992
Summary: Lady Fareeha Amari, The Young Falcon, and her army try to hold a strategic ford against an invading enemy, and they receive some unexpected help.





	The Falcon and the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy it's me, it's ya boi lazypator. Probably not the update some of you were hoping for from me but it's the one you are gonna get it.  
> All jokes aside I've been cooking this for quite a while and am quite proud of it despite being out of practice, hope you enjoy!

The sounds of battle filled the air. The clash of arms, the screams and moans of maimed and dying soldiers, the panicked cries of injured horses. There was a stench as well, a god awful smell familiar to those who have been in battle. Sweat, mud and shit all mixed together into an unforgettable aroma. Blood too. It was everywhere, mixing with the soil to create a sticky red mud that clung to one's armour. In many spots the ground was so saturated that it formed pools. These pools fed streams, which in turn flowed down to the ford over which this battle was being fought.

A party of mounted knights surveyed the carnage atop a small hillock overlooking the ford. Their banners fluttered in the breeze. The highest and most resplendent was that of a blue falcon on a golden field. It's knight was clad in azure armour atop a black stallion, wiping the blood and gore off her blue hand and a half sword as she watched the battle.

“We are too close m'lady.” One of the attendant knights, an older man whose beard was flecked with grey, said. “Far too tempting for any archer with half a brain.”

“It is a good thing our enemies are not known for their smarts then now is it?” Another knight, a lad of no more that eighteen summers, quipped. It got a chuckle out of the party.

The older knight scowled, but did not relent.

“Lady Amari please. That last sally was far too close.” He said.

“Sir Gamal, you appear to have lost you boldness in your old age.” The younger knight said in jest. “I did not know you to turn back from an enemy like this.”

Gamal opened his mouth to reply, but Lady Amari beat him too it.

“You mistake rashness for boldness Lord Khoury.” She said, keeping her eyes on the battle, “You would do well to remember that Sir Gamal has been fighting since before you were conceived.” She turned to look back at the young man. “And in war, experience is paramount.”

“Yes Fareeha.”

“That is Lady Amari to you, not even your father has the right to address me that informally.”

“Of course my lady, my apologies.”

She returned her attention to the battle. The tactician in her spotted something amiss. A knight leading a section of spearmen had been knocked off his horse. Before he could recover six men converged on him, stabbing him over and over. His banner-bearer rushed the group, only for his horse to be stabbed through the chest by a spear. He was thrown to the ground, neck breaking on impact. Noticing the banner of their commander was no longer flying, the men began to waver. Fareeha moved to rectify the problem before it got out of control.

“Lord Jerynn.” She said, still watching the battle.

“Yes m'lady?”

“Take what men you have left and reinforce Sir Vahar's position. His men are under your command now. Quickly now, before they break.”

“Yes m'lady.”

The knight in question turned and rode off. The minutes slowly passed by, the party on the hillock silently watching the battle unfold. Lines of worry creased her brow as she saw more and more of Sir Vahar's men hesitate, looking over their shoulders to the rear.

Suddenly there was a great shout, and Lord Jerynn rode into battle trailed by half a dozen fully armoured knights. Following behind on foot were fifty men-at-arms, clad in the finest plate mail money could buy. Above them flew the standard of House Jerynn, a black boar on a silver field. Lord Jerynn and his knights smashed into the enemy ranks, crushing men underfoot. The men-at-arms charged into the gap, followed by the now rallied spearmen.

“Lord Jerryn!” The men cried, “Lord Jerryn of Carth!”

Fareeha allowed herself a smile, another crisis averted.

Sir Gamal rode up beside her.

“How your mother secured that alliance I will never know,” He said, quietly enough that only she heard it. “But the gods smiled on us that day.”

“He is an excellent soldier.” Fareeha agreed, “But he will want compensation after this is all done. House Jerynn has bled more than any other house in this war.”

“We have to win the war first. Focus on that.”

“Without their support we-”

“Lord Jerynn knows that Carth will be sacked and burned to the ground if we lose. You need not worry about losing his support.”

The conversation lapsed, the sounds of battle filing her ears once more. Fareeha watched with grim satisfaction as a line of bowmen loosed a volley of arrows into the enemy reinforcements struggling across the ford. Many were hit, their bodies floating downstream on the swift current.

“Any word from the other fords?” She asked.

“Not since the last riders. Nothing to the south, just as we had hoped, and the two too the north are holding just like we are.” Gamal replied.

Fareeha nodded.

“How long until dark?” She said, looking at her marshal.

“About three more hours by my reckoning.” He replied after a quick glance at the sun, “Cannot come fast enough”

“The men will hold.” She said, more to herself than Gamal, “They have to hold.”

Her eyes roved the battle, searching the two lines of struggling soldiers for weaknesses to either shore up or exploit. A shout brought her out of it.

“Rider!” Called a voice from behind her.

“From the south m'lady.” Gamal said. He frowned. “And ill news by the looks of him.”

Fareeha spotted the rider, galloping hard towards her position on the hillock. The man's arm was crudely bandaged, fresh blood staining the white cloth.

“Lances!” Fareeha ordered, gesturing to her retinue, “Fresh lances, all of you! Go!”

They galloped away, leaving only herself and Gamal on the hillock to await the approaching rider. As he rode up the grassy slope, Fareeha saw the shaft of an arrow sticking out of the man's shoulder. Upon reaching them the man teetered in his saddle, and Gamal rode forward and held the rider up.

“Healer!” He bellowed in the direction of the camp. “Healer up front!”

“What news?” Fareeha asked.

The man blinked, snaking his head as if to snap himself out of a trance before speaking.

“Sir Fihaar and Sir Lang are dead and the enemy are across in force.” He said, “We fell back to the woods but Lord Kesh is wounded. He requests assistance or he will be overwhelmed.”

“What happened?” Fareeha asked, her tone urgent, “How many are across?”

“At least a hundred, all cavalry, but I expect their numbers to have doubled by now. We were spread thin along the stand of trees bordering the ford. Everything was quiet when suddenly we were hit with a storm of arrows. Sir Fihaar was hit in the eye, and at least a dozen others fell. Then they emerged from the woods, flying the banner of the red dragon.”

“The sigil of House Grifful.” Gamal remarked, “Not good.”

By now a healer had ridden up to the trio, and gave the man a waterskin. Fareeha gestured for him to continue his tale.

“We emptied our quivers but there were too many. Once they reached our bank it was over. Sir Lang fell and the men broke. Lord Kesh rallied us for a counter charge, but he was unhorsed and took a spear to the lower leg. We barely made it back to the tree line before they broke off pursuit.”

“No doubt to consolidate their bridgehead.” Gamal said. He released his grip on the man. “This is not good.”

“Indeed.” Fareeha said. “What do you suggest?”

“Lord Grifful is skilled in single combat, but is a cautious commander. I say we hit him hard before he can shore up his lodgment.”

“I agree.” Fareeha replied, “But with what? Any men we take from here or the north are men we cannot use to plug holes. Things are still too close to call here.”

“Your retinue m'lady. It is the only reserve we can spare.”

“Then I will depart at once.”

“M'lady please-”

“You know I have to do this Gamal, the men will not follow anyone else.”

“Then at least allow me to accompany you.”

“No, I need you here. This is the largest of the four fords, and the only one with a bottom capable of supporting sustained wagon traffic.” Fareeha told him. “You said it yourself, this is where the strongest blow shall fall. Therefore this is where I need my sturdiest and most stubborn shield.”

Gamal opened his mouth to protest, but shut it just as quickly when Fareeha gave him a pointed look.

“I will be fine.” Fareeha assured him. “You worry about those pikemen massing on the other bank.”

By now Fareeha's retinue had returned, bearing fresh lances. One of them rode up and handed an extra to her. She hefted the length of ash upright as Gamal rode in close.

“Gods watch over you child.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “The war is lost without you.”

“Thank you.” Fareeha smiled back, before tapping her horse with the spurs and riding down the hillock to her waiting retinue.

“The enemy is across the southern ford.” She told them, “We ride to the aid of Lord Kesh. Anyone not ready to give their life in defence of this land should remain here for the odds are not in our favour.”

She paused, looking each of them in the eye. Determined faces looked back.

“Then let us ride.” Fareeha dug her spurs in and her stallion shot off to the south. The thirty members of her retinue followed close behind.

 

The ride to the southern ford took no more than twenty minutes at their brisk pace. As they drew closer Fareeha used the line of trees to mask their arrival. One of Lord Kesh's men jumped out of hiding. Recognizing Fareeha he waved the party to where the injured lord had taken shelter. It was a sorry sight.

At least two dozen men lay in a dell, all bandaged. An equal number stood guard, keen eyes trained on the copse of trees that concealed the ford. Most were armed with bows, and true to the messenger’s words the quivers they wore were empty.

“Lord Kesh?” Fareeha said, glancing around the injured men.

A man in full plate mail raised his hand.

“Here m'lady.” He said. Using his sword as a crutch Lord Kesh rose to greet her. “There is a small brook just behind our little camp, I imagine you've had a hard ride.”

Fareeha dismounted, handing her lance and reins to an able bodied soldier. She removed her helmet, the golden visor shaped like the beak of a falcon, and gave her hair a shake.

“Water the horses.” She told her men, “Be back here in five minutes.”

The knights inclined their heads and trotted off.

“How goes the battle to the north?” Kesh asked.

“We are holding.” Fareeha answered, “Barely. This is all I can spare.”

Kesh nodded and stroked the grey whiskers of his beard.

“Come.” He said, gesturing to the edge of the woods, “I'll show you the enemy dispositions.”

Fareeha nodded and followed the nobleman as he hobbled to the edge of the trees. Upon reaching it he leaned against a pine to take the weight off his injured leg. Before them was an open expanse of grassland, gently sloping down towards the river. Just before reaching the banks there was a stand of trees, a mixture of oak and ash, which concealed the southernmost ford along this section of the Millwater river.

“There.” Kesh said, pointing a gauntlet covered hand at the north end of the woods, “Can you see them?”

Fareeha followed his finger and quickly made out several figures moving about at the edge of the woods.

“They are concentrated at the northern end, it's shallower on that side.” Kesh continued, “But still a deep ford. Up to a man's armpits at this time of year and bloody cold.”

“Hence why we didn't station many men here.” Fareeha said. “What I do not understand is why they have not pushed you back further after winning the crossing.”

“They took off their armour during the crossing, mail and heavy plate is a death sentence in a current that swift. The bottom is rocky and slick, fall in full armour and you won’t resurface before you drown. They have even lit fires to warm themselves and dry their clothes.” He pointed to small columns of smoke rising from in between the trees. “From what we've been able to observe they have had a hell of a time getting their horses across as well.”

“Numbers?”

“Around two hundred, almost all household knights of Lord Grifful. The old bastard is there too, he cut down six of my scouts himself.”

“So two hundred knights just turned my southern flank but instead of exploiting it, and rolling us up from the side, they are sunning themselves as if on holiday?”

“I never claimed Lord Grifful was much of a strategist.” Kesh said with a smirk, “But you have to admit it is a sunny day.”

Fareeha shook her head in disbelief. She looked over the ground she was about to ride, a plan already formed in her mind.

“What are your orders?” Kesh asked.

“We hit them, hard and fast. Catch them before they can get get horsed and put on their armour.” Fareeha said. She pointed at his injured leg. “Can you ride?”

Kesh shook his head.

“Not at the speed you have in mind.” He said, “Besides, all our horses were killed or driven off when they crossed.”

“Very well. Form up what men you have and send them in after us. Once the shock of impact wears off we will need the reinforcements.”

“Very well. A word of caution m'lady, if you would have it?”

“Of course.”

“Do not stray too far into the trees. There are crossbowmen on the other bank, they shot us to ribbons. The local peasants have stripped the undergrowth for firewood over the years so there is very little cover.”

“Noted.” Fareeha turned and looked back to check if her knights had returned. They had indeed, and were idling in the makeshift camp. “Let us be off then.”

“Gods watch over you m’lady.” Kesh said, “They will sing songs about this day if all goes well.”

They turned back to the camp, Kesh hobbling along as fast as he could. Fareeha found her stallion watered and waiting. She mounted, thanking the soldier as she accepted her lance back.

“No need to thank me m'lady.” He said, “Just drive the pricks back into the river.”

She nodded and turned to address her the whole camp.

“They think they can walk into our lands, steal our grain, burn our homes and slaughter our families. It stops today. No longer will they pass unimpeded through OUR lands. Every inch will be paid in blood, and it starts today, here, at this ford.” Her eyes burned with passion, and the men were silent as she spoke. “We will remind them how sharp the talons of a falcon are. This I swear.”

There were nods of approval, even among the injured.

“I swore an oath to protect this land, and those that live in it. Today I will fulfill this oath. You all swore oaths to defend my house. Today I call upon you to fulfill those oaths. Ride with me brothers and sisters, ride with me now.”

The knights cheered.

“We are going to ride in there and hit them hard, but I need you,” She pointed at the men on foot around her, “To be right behind us. Together we will drive the bastards back into the river and drown the lot. No quarter is to be given, for they have given none to us this entire war.”

The footmen cheered, grim determination in their eyes. Many had homes on the far shore, and had lost families to the invader’s torch.

Fareeha gestured to her knights.

“Form up, single line abreast.” She ordered.

The command echoed down the line as the knights formed up. Fareeha took her place at the center.

“Stay tight.” She said, “No gaps until we get near the trees.”

They moved at a walking pace to the edge of the wood, the footmen close behind. There Fareeha signaled a halt. She pulled a horn out of one of her saddle bags and blew three long blasts. Almost at once the men across the field began to scurry about, like ants whose nest has been disturbed. Fareeha put the horn back in it's pouch and readied her lance.

“Forward!” She shouted, before lowering her visor. The line of knights moved out from the cover of the woods at a trot.

As soon as the broke the treeline their banners caught the breeze and snapped straight. Shouts of alarm went up from Grifful's men as they could now see the approaching riders. Fareeha griped her reins tightly and prodded her stallion into a canter. When they reached the midway point she urged her horse into a gallop. She lowered her lance, already scanning the panicking men for a target.

Then Fareeha saw him. Lord Grifful emerged from the trees to see what all the commotion was about. His look of confusion changed to one of shock when he saw what was bearing down on his unprepared troops.

“Charge!” Fareeha shouted through her helmet.

She dug in her spurs, pushing her stallion forward. The knights beside her did the same, keeping half a horse length behind her. The line shifted into a wedge, with Fareeha at the vertex.

The steel tip of her lance gleamed in the sunlight. She braced the long shaft, just as her mother had taught her so long ago, and bore down on her target. War-cries erupted from the charging knights, barely heard over the wind rushing past her helmet.

“House Amari!” They roared. “For the Young Falcon!”

Lord Grifful stood his ground, drawing his blade and squaring up with the horse and rider thundering towards him. He knew, just as Fareeha did, that there was no escape. Better to die standing than cut down in flight. He raised his blade, calling on his men to stand and fight. Few heeded his words.

And then she was upon him.

The lance struck Lord Grifful just above his heart, passing clean through his body and erupting out the back in a geyser of blood and gore. The shock of impact jolted Fareeha in the saddle and cracked the lance in several places.

She discarded the weapon, lest the two-hundred and fifty pounds of dead-weight on the end of it throw her from the saddle, and drew her sword. Her eyes found another target, a knight fleeing towards his horse. She was on him before he could turn to see her. Her blade flashed as she rent him open from shoulder to hip.

He fell with a scream.

Her horse crushed another beneath its hooves.

Another tried to slash at her left side as she rode past. She parried the blow, and plunged her sword into the man's neck. It exploded out the back, and he fell to the ground gurgling blood. She glanced around quickly to asses the situation.

It was chaos.

The knights of House Grifful were in full flight, scrambling like rats before a flame. She stood up in her saddle and lifted her visor.

“Ride them down!” Fareeha bellowed, “Drive them to the river!”

Fareeha then glanced around for her next target. She found it in a man who had escaped notice by hiding behind a tree. He was now trying to make his way to the river as discreetly as possible. Fareeha tapped her mount with her spurs and took off after him. He spotted her right away and tried to run.

Her stallion closed the distance before the man had gone more than twenty paces. She slashed downwards across his skull, shattering the bone and splattering gore on her armour. His body collapsed, and Fareeha turned her horse. Her gaze fell on one of her own knights.

Lady Helman was beset by three opponents and cradling an injured arm. Fareeha gave the command to gallop and charged towards her comrade. Lady Helman had managed to remove one of her foes with a quick sword thrust to the chest; However that left her injured side exposed to the two remaining men. Just as they were about to lunge Fareeha arrived.

Her stallion ran headlong into the first man, slamming him to the ground. Fareeha tapped her spurs, causing her horse to rear up. It's hooves came straight down onto the man's ribs, crushing them instantly with a sickening crunch. At the same time Fareeha slashed at the final soldier. He collapsed to the ground, frantically trying to cover the gaping hole in his neck. Lady Helman delivered the coup de grace, wincing as her injured arm shifted. She lifted her visor.

“Thank you m'lady.” She said to Fareeha, “I owe you my life.”

Fareeha smiled and waved it off.

“Anytime. How is your arm?” She asked.

The knight frowned.

“Not great. The bastard jumped out from behind a tree, damn near knocked me out of the saddle.” Helman replied, “Might be broken, thank the gods it wasn't my sword arm or I'd be lying in his place.” She pointed at the man she’d stabbed through the gut earlier.

Fareeha nodded.

“Head back to the camp, we're almost done here anyway.” She said. “Get that looked at right away.”

“But I can-”

“That is an order.” Fareeha said firmly, “You cannot ride and fight with only one good arm. You are liable to get yourself killed needlessly.”

Chastised, Lady Helman nodded.

“Very well m'lady.” She said, “May the gods watch over you.”

“And you as well.” Fareeha replied.

She kept an eye on Lady Helman as she rode off, making sure she reached the relative safety of the open field without trouble. Fareeha then turned back to inspect the course of the battle.

Her knights had killed a good number of the Grifful banner-men, those that were left made for the river. They cast off what weapons and armour they had and made for the sanctuary of the opposite bank. Their shouts had alerted the crossbowmen stationed there to cover the crossing, and these men were shooting at any Amari knight that came too close.

“Keep up the pressure!” She ordered, riding towards the bank. “And watch out for those archers!”

As it to emphasize her point a bolt shot past her head and embedded itself in a nearby tree.

“Keep moving!” Fareeha said, riding past two idle knights. “Stay still and you are dead.”

Up ahead Lord Khoury was chasing a fleeing soldier but unbeknownst to him he had strayed into the range of the crossbowmen on the opposite bank. Fareeha shouted a warning, but Lord Khoury was too intent on his prey to hear her.

Fareeha took off after him, cursing under her breath. She called out again but the attempt was in vain, Lord Khoury continued his pursuit. He was now well within bowshot of the opposite bank.

Fareeha dug her spurs in, urging the stallion below her to go faster but it was too late. As Khoury plunged his sword into the back of the man he was chasing he was hit. The first bolt was followed swiftly by three more. Fareeha watched in horror as he slumped in his saddle, leaned to one side and fell off.

Before she could cry out to him her own horse was struck in the flank. It screamed in pain, rearing up. Another bolt struck it’s belly and Fareeha was thrown from her saddle. She struck the ground, and the world went black.

 

Her next memory was a blinding white light. She tried to shield her eyes but her arm refused to move. 

Fareeha squinted, trying to adjust to the brightness. She could make out a silhouette of a figure, complete with wings and a halo.

“Am I dead?” She whispered.

The figure responded by splashing water on Fareeha’s face. She sputtered and sat upright, her head spinning at the sudden change in elevation. Her left arm hurt like hell. She moved her fingers experimentally. There was was short burst of pain, but it quickly faded into a dull ache.

“Good, you are up.” A voice said.

Fareeha quickly scanned her surroundings. She was still clad in her armour, minus the helmet. Her sword lay beside her, the runes on the azure blade coated in dried blood. She was in a small clearing, which she recognized as the makeshift camp where she had been briefed by Lord Kesh. There were wounded soldiers scattered about, some of which belonged to her retinue. Before her stood a woman, clad in white scale armor with gold accents. Draped over it was a tabard which bore an elaborate crest. Two snakes entwined around a staff, the head of which had wings. She carried very similar staff, minus the snakes, along with a hand crossbow. Her white hair was tucked back into a ponytail, the end of which rested on a cloak of pure white.

“Angela Ziegler, Priestess of the Dawnmother.” She said, inclining her head a little. “You had a nasty fall. I’d like to make sure you are okay.”

Fareeha inclined her head and Angela knelt down next to her. She held a finger in front of Fareeha’s face.

“Follow this with your eyes.” Angela told her. 

She began to move it back and forth. Fareeha was able to follow it without much difficulty. Angela then moved to examine Fareeha’s head, the gentle touch of her fingers sending shivers down Fareeha’s spine. She found her eyes drawn to the woman before her, thoughts forming in her mind that had no place on the battlefield. 

Angela muttered a phrase under her breath and the tip of her finger began to glow with a radiant yellow light. She gently touched the center of Fareeha’s forehead. Almost at once Fareeha felt the fog lift from her mind. She suddenly became aware of just how stiff and sore her whole body was, no doubt a product of falling off her horse.

Angela pulled back, seemingly satisfied with her work, and offered a small smile. Fareeha felt herself being tugged into the priest’s radiant blue eyes. Angela blushed under the force of Fareeha’s gaze but didn’t turn away. Instead she winked, and it was Fareeha’s turn to blush.

“How long was I out?” Fareeha asked, in an effort to distract herself from what just happened.

“Not long.” Lord Kesh spoke up from where he was seated nearby. 

“And the battle?” Fareeha said, turning to face him as best she could

“We slaughtered them. At least fifty of Lord Grifful’s finest didn’t reach the river, and a good number drowned or were shot as they fled across.”

“And us?”

“Seven. Four of my scouts and three from your retinue. Sir Verran, Lady Webb and Lord Khoury.”

“Gamal must be informed.” Fareeha said, more to herself than anyone. She glanced around the camp, noting the absence of her retinue. “I take it we are in possession of the bank?”

“For now.” Lord Kesh replied. “But without ammunition we will not be able to force those crossbowman back, and things will be right back where they were when you first arrived.”

Fareeha nodded. Angela moved to examine the arm Fareeha was cradling.

“Send what wounded that can ride to fetch more ammunition.” Fareeha said. “My retinue will remain here to help you hold the crossing.”

Angela spoke another phrase and this time three fingers were illuminated with the same warm light as before. She rubbed them along the length of Fareeha’s forearm, noticeably dulling the pain. Angela pulled back and offered a small smile, which Fareeha returned.

“And you m’lady?” Kesh asked.

“I must return to the center.” Fareeha replied. Kesh opened his mouth to protest so Fareeha continued. “I cannot direct the army from here Lord Kesh. With respect, this is a sideshow. The main front requires my attention.”

“Of course m’lady but I must insist you not ride alone, especially with your arm.”

Fareeha tried to make a fist with the arm Angela had examined and found it rather difficult. Painless, but difficult nonetheless.

“It will take some time for the spell to finish healing your arm as it was a bad sprain.” Angela said. She turned to Lord Kesh. “I can ride with Lady Amari m’lord.” She offered, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Seemingly realizing this she added, “Of course only if m’lady is willing, I do not wish to-”

“Very well.” Fareeha cut her off. “We depart at once.”

“Of course m’lady.” 

Angela stood up and rushed off to gather horses for the pair. Fareeha watched her depart with curious eyes. Lord Kesh followed her gaze and smiled.

“The priests of the Dawnmother are quite remarkable” He said. “Pity they don’t take sides.”

“At least they get involved in world affairs, unlike the damn mages.” Fareeha said.

Kesh shared a chuckle with Fareeha at the remark.

“You know she served with your mother.” He said, and Fareeha raised an eyebrow. “Just some food for thought.”

With that he hobbled back towards the edge of camp to direct his men. Fareeha stood up, grimacing as her bruised muscles protested.

“Where is my helmet?” Fareeha asked, realizing the distinctive piece was missing.

One of the wounded men pointed to a pile of discarded arms and armour at the edge of camp, removed by the healers as they did their work. Fareeha walked over and quickly located the heirloom.

The blue metal was dented and scraped, no doubt from her fall. Fareeha wiped the mud from it as best she could. Her fingers came to rest on the falcon emblem etched into the brow, the symbol of her house. Engraved above it were the words “Honor through service”, which her family had lived by for generations.

Fareeha traced the ornate runes with her fingers. They glowed faintly in response, the protective enchantments they imbued the helmet with having been weakened by her recent ordeal. She frowned, getting it repaired and re-enchanted was not going to be an easy fix.

“I never thought I’d see rune-smithed armour this side of the Icefang mountains.” Angela had returned. “The smiths of Wolfshead are very guarded with whom they do business.”

“It was a gift.” Fareeha replied, looking up from the heirloom. “My great grandfather Abdul Amari saved the life of the master smith. This suit and sword were forged for our house in thanks.”

“A kingly gift.”

“Indeed. Some joke it is worth more than all the wealth in the Westerlands.” Fareeha chuckled.

Angela beamed back, and Fareeha felt her heart soar. It was then that she noticed the priestess had only returned with one horse.

“This is all I was able to find,” Angela said when Fareeha raised the issue, “I’m afraid your retinue requisitioned the rest in order to replace their losses.”

“Very well.” Fareeha said, “Help me up.”

With her crippled arm it took the assistance of two more men in order for Fareeha to take her place behind Angela in the saddle. Her dented helmet was placed in one of the saddlebags. Fareeha then wrapped her good arm around Angela’s waist and rested her other one on top of it. Angela’s staff was then pressed into Fareeha’s hands, her grip keeping it from being jostled out of Angela’s lap as they rode.

“Not so tight.” Angela whispered.

“Right, sorry.” Fareeha coughed out awkwardly, and slacked her grip a touch. She was suddenly very aware her proximity to Angela and how the priestess’ back was flush against her chest plate.

Angela dug in her spurs and the horse took off. Angela eased it into a canter, holding a steady pace. It took the two riders a few minutes to get used to sharing a saddle and even then it was not the most comfortable experience.

It was awkward. Very awkward, bouncing up and down with very little to no space in between them. Angela got the worst of it. Not only was Fareeha pressed firmly against her with an arm around her waist but every time Fareeha looked straight ahead her breath fell on Angela’s neck. The sensation sent shivers down her spine more than once.

“Are you cold?” Fareeha asked.

“I’m fine.” Angela replied, hoping Fareeha couldn't see just how red Angela’s cheeks were at the moment, “Just the wind.”

Fareeha seemed to accept this. She felt her eyes grow heavy, the adrenaline rush from earlier in the day beginning to leave her. She rested her head on Angela’s shoulder as best she could and closed her eyes.

Angela looked back and smiled. She gave Fareeha’s gauntlet a soft squeeze and slowed their pace just a touch. They continued in this manner until the sounds of battle could be heard over the breathing of the horse. Angela tapped Fareeha’s hand to get her attention.

“We are almost back.” She said.

Fareeha sat upright, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright light again. The battlefield soon came into view. To her immense relief her Army still held the field. In fact it appeared that they had driven the invaders back to the waterline.

“Make for that knoll.” Fareeha said, pointing to the small hill on which Gamal still stood. 

The old general noticed her arrival, and waved her over.

“M’lady.” Gamal greeted her with a salute once Angela’s horse reached his side. “The battle goes well, we are driving them back. What news from the south? And where is your horse? And your helm-”

Fareeha held up a hand, her good one, to forestall Gamal’s questions.

“The southern ford is once again in our hands. I left my retinue there with Lord Kesh to deter any further attempts at crossing.” She told him, “As for me, I’ve been far worse. This priestess patched me up with extraordinary skill.”

“Only doing what I have sworn to do M’lady.” Angela said. Still she smiled at the compliment.

“Then you have my sincere thanks.” Gamal said to Angela, “This war is lost without her.”

Fareeha shook her head and looked towards the battle.

“You know it’s true.” Gamal continued, “The men won’t follow anyone else.” He reached over and clapped Fareeha on the shoulder. “I’m glad to see you back in one piece. Again you have my utmost thanks priestess, er...”

“Angela.” Angela said, “Angela Zeigler, Priestess of the Dawnmother.” 

“Whatever brought you here, I am most grateful for it.”

“I go where I am needed general, although I wish my services were not required here. Such bloodshed is...regrettable.”

“We didn’t ask for this invasion.” Fareeha cut in, “Nor did we ask to have our homes burned as we slept in them. I’m no philosopher but you cannot fault us for defending ourselves.”

“I’m not trying to. Ours is an imperfect world, full of suffering.” Angela said. “My order strives to be impartial. We treat all in need, no matter whose banner they follow or how much gold is in their pockets. It is the Dawnmother’s will.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, the shouts and cries of dying men filling the void in conversation.

“All that said I did not come here on the Dawnmother’s will alone.” Angela said. “I served with your mother, and while I did not agree with all the things she did I do have to admit it was I service of a good cause. She always kept her word.”

“Not always.” Fareeha whispered under her breath. Angela either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it.

“When I heard war had been declared I rode as fast as I could.” Angela continued, “I felt I owed it to your mother.”

“She was a remarkable woman.” Gamal said.

Fareeha gave the faintest of nods, not looking at either of them.

“From what I’ve seen over the past few days you are as well.” Angela said, “Even more so perhaps.”

With an impressive display of dexterity Angela retrieved her staff, dismounted, and dropped to one knee.

“Lady Fareeha of House Amari, I, Angela Zeigler, Priestess of the Dawnmother, offer you my services to you and your house until this conflict is at an end.”

Fareeha carefully dismounted. Standing before Angela she inclined her head and held out a hand.

“Then rise Priestess, and take your place at my side.”

Angela stood, and the two locked eyes for a long moment. Angela turned away first, reaching into one of her belt pouches and pulling out a small object.

“Here.” Angela said, offering it to Fareeha. “This belonged to your mother, and I feel it’s only right for you to have it. A mutual friend of ours was able to recover it. When he heard-”

“Who?” Fareeha interjected with perhaps a little to much force. “Who heard?”

“Sir Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

Fareeha’s face fell. 

“You were hoping for someone else?” Angela asked. She still held her hand out for Fareeha to take the object, which Fareeha could now see was a necklace with a pendant of some sort.

“I was hoping it was my father.” She said flatly. “You haven't heard from him by chance?”

“No.” Angela shook her head. “Will you accept this? She would have wanted you to have it.”

“What my mother wanted was never very obvious, but I will accept this nonetheless. As a gift from Sir Reinhardt.”

She reached out her hand and took the necklace from Angela. As she did the runes engraved onto her gauntlet glowed white hot in such close proximity to the priestess. Fareeha held the necklace up, inspecting it in the light of early evening. A delicate looking steel chain, adorned with a small pendant. The pendant was in the shape of a circle with an inverted ‘V’ in the middle and made out of silver. The top portion of the circle, where it attached to the chain, was gold.

She had seen her mother wear it on countless occasions, she’d even been allowed to play with it as a young child on occasion. But never in her wildest dream did she imagine it would return to her. Fareeha felt an upwelling of emotion and she fought hard to suppress it, they still had a battle to win.

Fareeha pulled the necklace over her head and tucked the pendent underneath her leather jerkin, the innermost layer of her armour. Angela gave her a crooked smile.

“Welcome to Overwatch Lady Fareeha Amari.” She said.

Over Angela’s shoulder Gamal was beaming.

“About time.” He said, “But perhaps we can return to the issue at hand, namely the battle we are still trying to win.”

“Of course Gamal.” Fareeha said. She clumsily remounted the horse she had rode in on before turning to Angela, who was still on foot. “You know how best to make use of yourself.”

“Indeed.” Angela said, surveying the score of injured and dying men who littered the still raging battle. “I will get to it at once.”

The priestess began to walk down the hill her white cloak fluttering in the breeze behind her.

“Angela!”

Fareeha’s voice stopped the priestess mid stride. She turned back to face her.

“Join me in my tent for dinner?” Fareeha asked, “If your duties allow it of course.”

Angela smiled back warmly.

“I would be honoured.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yay I wrote a thing. Been almost a full year. Feels good, who knows what will happen next. I might update OPAtS (the latest chapter is still 75% complete and had been for 6 months now) or I might do something else. Or I might disappear into the ether again for a year, who knows *shrug*. Hell I might turn this into a series, I've got a few ideas on where to go next ticking away in my head, and I'd love to flesh out this universe. No guarantees though. As always thanks for reading, and I really do hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ps. yeah I know it's Canadian spelling, the extra U's are good for you


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